


Pressure

by WhoopsOK



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Drift Side Effects, First Time, Hair-pulling, Headaches & Migraines, Lab Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Drift (Pacific Rim), Psychic Bond, Simultaneous Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: The connection does dim after a while, but it never goes away completely. That’s how Hermann knows that Newt has been nursing a headache for the past few hours.(Hermann tries to help with Newt's headache so he can get some sleep, but things go a little differently than he meant for them to go.)





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Ode to the fact that hair pulling helps tension headaches, YMMV.

The connection does dim after a while, but it never goes away completely. That’s how Hermann knows that Newt has been nursing a headache for the past few hours.

It’s not exactly like _Hermann’s_ head hurts because of it. It’s just that he knows Newt’s does and that is almost as distracting as having a real headache. At first Hermann elects to try and ignore it, but he can feel the flickering beginnings of Newt working himself up into an episode trying to focus around the pain. Hermann sighs, frustrated, because that’ll be enough to wreck _both_ their evenings. Grabbing his cane, he abandons his tea to go find his lab partner. He figures getting Newt’s head to stop pounding might help _both_ their cases of insomnia.

The lab is over-lit when he comes in.

The overhead lights as well as the desk lamp and several surgical lights Newt doesn’t even appear to be using cast the room in alarming brightness. He’s sitting at his desk digging a knuckle into his temple, glaring at his notes as he bounces his leg so hard the rolling stool he’s sitting on is squeaking loudly in the empty room. His headache must be a little more pressing than what Hermann felt across their connection, because Newt doesn’t even realize Hermann is in the room until he starts unplugging the surgical lights.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” Newt asks, finally going still to watch Hermann in confusion as he turns off the overhead lights, too. No _wonder_ Newt’s head is hurting, how long has he been in here? “Herms?”

“Stay seated please,” Hermann says, because telling him to go to bed has never gone over well, so the least he can do is relieve some of his pain. He thinks there’s some ibuprofen in his desk, but Newt rolls into his way before he can walk past to check. He presses his lips together, his sympathy headache spiking with annoyance, “Newton.”

“What!” Newt snaps defensively, “You’re the one that came in here on a rampage at one in the morning!”

Shifting his grip on his cane, Hermann pushes on Newt’s shoulder until he rolls back up to his desk. “You have a headache,” he says, adjusting the desk lamp so it’s angled away from Newt’s face, “A tension headache, if I had to guess. It’s keeping us both awake, so…” he says, then recalls Newt saying that pain pills don’t really help him with those. Well… “So I thought I might help, I’ve heard—” he starts to explain himself as he goes to tug gently on Newt’s hair, but the words get lost almost instantly.

Some part of him hears Newt gasp, but mostly he _feels it._

Newt has _A Thing_ about getting his hair pulled.

As soon as Hermann does it, he is suddenly hit with all these flashes of Newt’s memory. Again and again, bursts of heat turned into embarrassed disappointment when people pull his hair in passing, only to then let go. Then flashes of just _heat, heat, heat_ when Newt pulls _his own_ hair while he’s masturbating and thinking about Hermann, _Hermann, fuck, Herms, please_ —

Herman snatches his hand away, but the sudden roiling lust in his stomach doesn’t stop, even though some humiliation mixes in as Newt launches to his feet, rocking his desk as he falls back against it. They’re staring at each other, blushed scarlet and speechless.

Newt definitely, _really_ likes having his hair pulled.

Apparently, he also _really_ likes Dr. Hermann Gottleib.

“…Oh,” Hermann says, struck dumb, feeling Newt’s panic buzzing at the edge of his awareness.

“I— _Shit!_ I-I’m so sorry, that was—I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have touched you without asking first.”

“Nah, it’s—I know you were just trying to help,” Newt finishes awkwardly, looking away and running a hand through his hair. It’s an absent, nervous motion, but Hermann feels it tingle down to his toes even through the waves of embarrassment sloshing uncomfortably between them.

“Yes, yes, I—ah…” In in rare moment of interpersonal daring, Hermann wants to chase that tingle more than he wants to avoid further embarrassment. He clears his throat, trying to think over the sound of his own heartbeat. “ _Would_ that?” he asks, and internally winces, _nice job, very articulate._

“Uh,” Newt blinks at him. “Would what?”

Hermann motions towards Newt’s head, then towards Newt’s—goodness alive, Newt’s gotten _aroused_ —crotch. “Would _that_ help?”

Newt looks for all the world like perhaps he believes he’s been drugged, like he can’t trust the want Hermann knows he can feel reverberating between them. “Are you—?” he laughs nervously, “What exactly are you saying here, Herms?”

“I’m asking if I might…” Hermann is putting his foot in his mouth. “May I touch you, Newt?”

“Yeah,” Newt answers quickly, Hermann aches for the embarrassed look that crosses his face a second later. “I mean, sure, if you w—” His voice runs out when Hermann’s hand finds its way back to his hair, forcing out an unsteady little breath. Even just stroking gently is enough to make Newt lose his legs, falling back onto his seat.

“It’s quite alright. I am, ah…” Herman clears his throat, scrapes his nails over Newt’s scalp, watches his eyes slip closed, “as keen on touching you as you are on being touched.”

Newt shudders. “Don’t think that’s possible, dude.”

Hermann chuckles. “You _are_ prone to indulgence.”

“Was that a chubby joke? That’s low, man, I expected better from—” Hermann pulls his hair a little sharper then and Newt arches into it, fingers digging into his own knees. “ _Shit_.”

The feeling tingles along Herman’s scalp as well, but mostly settles in his groin, unmistakable arousal. Both of theirs. Hermann is about to come out of his own skin watching Newt hold back for once, because _for once_ he doesn’t want him to hold anything back at all _._ “I was saying it because you’re welcome to indulge yourself in this instance, as well.”

Newt catches Hermann’s meaning instantly, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Newton.”

Still, Newt hesitates, head dropping forward when Hermann digs in his nails slightly against the crown of his head. “ _Ah!_ I mean—We’re talking about the same thing, right? Like—”

“Must I say it crassly?” Hermann says, but before Newt can respond he continues, “You may touch yourself.”

Something passes between them then, a little too quickly for Hermann to get a good look at; feelings that ping back and forth and answer each other before either of them would’ve even been able to find the words. For however many little emotional micro transactions happen in that moment, it boils down to Newt wanting and Hermann wanting and none of this being a casual game for either of them.

Newt opens his pants haphazardly and Hermann runs his fingers up from Newt’s nape to the top of his head, grips his hair to crane his head back as Newt pulls his cock free. “ _Oh,_ ” he groans as he strokes himself.

“Wonderful,” Hermann says, eyes shifting between Newt’s face and the hand jerking over his genitals. Newt with his eyes clenched shut and mouth slack and face pink is _a good look._ But Hermann has never seen Newt’s dick except in passing in ill-timed decontamination showers—certainly never hard—and can hardly take his eyes off it. “I’m almost surprised you’re not pierced.”

“ _Bucket list_ ,” Newt gasps, when his eyes open blearily. Hermann’s heart stumbles when he focuses on him. “You can pull harder.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow, “Do you _want_ me to?”

It’s something of a shock to the system to watch Newt’s eyes darken, his tongue coming out to wet his lips when he says quietly, “Yeah, harder, please.”

Hermann closes his fist tighter and Newt dribbles over the back of his own hand.

“Do—Do I need to ask you to come?” he says in a jumbled rush.

Hermann feels something warm and powerful expand in his chest, in response to something going liquid in Newt’s, but he doesn’t know what to do with it, how to categorize it, so for now he lets it go.

“No, you don’t,” Hermann says.

 But for however urgent Newt had sounded, he doesn’t come right off. It strikes Hermann then that the breathless anticipation he’s feeling isn’t just Newt’s impending orgasm, it… it feels like Newt _needs_ something from him. He can’t think of what else to give, except— “Would kissing you ruin the effect?”

Newt goes to shake his head, only to catch himself when Hermann refuses to let him move, tightening his hold and making Newt whine loudly. His free hand flies up to catch Hermann by the sleeve, the other stroking his arousal faster. “ _No_ , no, it wouldn’t, Herms, oh shit, please, _Hermann—_ ”

Hermann turns Newt’s head until he’s at a comfortable angle for Hermann to press their lips together, kissing his way into Newt’s mouth. There’s something very nearly intoxicating about Newt moaning around his tongue, arching up towards him as though lifted. Hermann has been told he is a quite prim kisser—has seen no issue with this—but in the moment can’t quite hold to form, doesn’t _want_ to. Newt likes a little sting, as evidenced by his reaction to Hermann’s first in his hair.

It makes Hermann want to use his teeth. So he does.

The sensation arcs through Newt so sharply he lets out a sobbing breath against Hermann’s face as he comes. In fact, the sensation arcs through Newt _so_ sharply it jumps over through Hermann, as well.

For a few breathless seconds, they’re stuck in a feedback loop of pleasure, the feeling of the both of them coming ricocheting in their own bodies and echoing in each other’s. Hermann has never once in his life wondered if orgasms feel different to different people, but now he has a definitive answer. In the spirit of science, they should probably do a study.

In the spirit of physicality, Hermann is coming so hard he winds up leaning on Newt to stay upright. The world filters back in via slow pulses between the blinding pleasure of it all before Hermann is even aware of the lab again.

“ _Good heavens,_ ” Hermann gasps.

“Did you just…?” Newt starts to ask, but Hermann is just as surprised as he is.

“ _You_ did it,” Hermann defends huffily, embarrassed by the tackiness of his underwear. But the fact that he’s still cradling Newt’s skull as the man himself laughs breathlessly sort of kills the effect.

“Dude, that’s fucking cool! Can you feel me when I masturbate?”

“For goodness _sakes_ , Newton—”

Newt gasps. “Wait! Can _I_ feel it if I give you head?”

Hermann’s brain grinds to a halt. “I _beg your pardon?_ ”

“We should definitely find out,” Newt replies, eyes drifting between Hermann’s eyes and his lips. “You know, as scientists and experiments alike.”

Flushed and feeling slightly juvenile—perhaps Newt is contagious, they really _should_ look into this—Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Is there a particular experiment taking place on my mouth right now, Dr. Geisler?”

“You know,” Newt says, sounding nearly genuine in his wonder. “I’m not sure. Let me check.”

It’s a lazy come on if ever there were one, to be sure.

However, it also results in Newt kissing Hermann again, so neither one of them are particularly willing to point that out.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…stretch and look away from the screen! 
> 
> They’re 10/10 going to have a conversation about _“Do I need to ask you to come?”_ and Newt will probably have a heart attack, RIP.


End file.
